


Forgetful

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, Warping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Nyx had always known that warping was useful.





	Forgetful

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted over at my [Tumblr](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/) from my [Fluffabet.](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/post/165255911779/fluffy-alphabet-prompts)

Warping was less a talent and more a finely honed skill. Nyx had worked at it for years despite his apparent knack for the royal trick. He had spent months alone in the training yards, running from his nightmares, focusing on these little pieces of magic that had been loaned out to him and his comrades. When the skill was being taught to his little group of labrats as a foundation for the Kingsglaive, he had watched old footage of a smiling Regis demonstrating the power. He had watched the battlefield footage of a young King laughing with his own friends out on some snippet of adventure that had only been captured on film by accident. There were demonstrations filmed for study, for art, the strange gift of the royal family laid bare like its magic as people and politics demanded more transparency and less mysticism. 

Nyx had studied all of those pieces of instruction when he was learning. He had never bothered to correct anyone when they said that he had a talent for it— that warping came effortlessly. He never let them know that his skill came from long nights memorising the way the borrowed magic curled around him and pulled him. Or working on a focal point. 

He never let on that he had learnt how to warp outside of the necessities in battle. That he liked the way the magic pulled him through reality to shatter against a target. That in the minuscule amount of time he was outside of reality, he knew that he was inside the crystal. That their weapons were their focal points to drag them through it. To keep them from burning up inside it. 

Like pests finding hidden passageways in churches. 

Nyx was proud that he had figured out that little secret. That he could wrap the magic around himself just as easily as the king. As the prince. 

He was proud that he had found ways to warp that didn’t require throwing his weapons around.

He was less thrilled that he didn’t use something stronger than a pencil when warping six storeys up from the streets of Insomnia. 

The traffic passed by below without noticing him. Pedestrians wandered on their routines without looking overhead, where he was tossing a pebble up and over to the next empty balcony. The Wall arching above shimmered and wavered in the afternoon light, the sun glaring across the stretch of glass and concrete that made up Insomnia, and no one bothered to step out to their balconies to admire the view. To where he was scrambling over the railings and practically taunting death as he followed a focus point— a broken toy from one balcony, a discarded hazelnut, a pebble, a pen— to where he needed to be. 

It was a pen he used for his last jump. 

He nearly missed. 

Gripping the edge of his target balcony, thirty floors up from the street and with a wonderful view of the Citadel, Nyx scrambled to keep his hold. He figured this would be the only occupied balcony in the entire city. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ulric?” Gladio grunted as he hauled Nyx to safety, letting the Glaive sprawl at a very surprised Noct’s feet. There was a book thrown aside, a drink tipped over, and three other very concerned faces staring at him in disbelief. 

Nyx had the decency to offer a sheepish smile as he brushed himself off once he regained his footing. “I forgot my keys.”

There was a collective groan from the prince’s retinue as Noct himself punched Nyx’s shoulder. “You could have called, hero. Or at least asked the doorman to let you in.”

“Forgot about that too.”

“Idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

“Still an idiot.”

“Do I still get to stay for lunch?”


End file.
